A Few Quiet Drinks
by Jadesfire
Summary: [Torchwood&Discworld crossover] It's surprising who you can bump into in some of these pubs. Five brief encounters.
1. Myfanwy and Fish

**Myfanwy and Fish**

This pub was one of the few in Cardiff where Ianto's smart three-piece suit and neat tie didn't get him stared at. A few heads turned towards him as he walked in, but that was more out of idle curiosity than open hostility. The fact that he didn't run away screaming as they did so told them all they needed to know.

He took a stool at the bar, nodding to the barman. The silent exchange was one of the reasons Ianto liked this place – you never needed to actually order a drink. Apparently, his subconscious felt that what he really needed right now was a double scotch on the rocks. Who was he to argue?

"Bad day?" The voice came from the drinker at the next stool, tinged with a sympathetic understanding.

Ianto nodded. "Aren't they all?"

"Oh, I don't know," the speaker mused. "There were a few dayth last week when thingth actually started to work."

Choosing to ignore the intermittent lisp, Ianto took a grateful swig of his drink. "What went wrong?" he asked.

"Some of the fish got out."

"Doesn't sound so bad."

"Dependth on the fish."

"Ah."

They drank in silence for a while, until Ianto could see the bottom of his glass. Somewhere in the depths of his brain, the part that needed alcohol decided it could manage for the moment and the next drink that appeared in front of him was a coke. With lime, he noticed as he took a sip. His subconscious had better taste than he did.

"What about you?" his companion asked.

"The pterodactyl escaped again," Ianto said. "My boss was furious."

"Ith it still doing the thing with the sheep?"

"It's moved onto cows."

His companion considered this. "Ithn't it a bit-"

"Yes," Ianto said, swirling his drink just to see it foam. "It sees a field of them and- well, it just swoops."

"Meththy."

It took Ianto a moment to translate the word, during which he reached out automatically for a napkin and wiped the bar down.

"Very messy," he agreed at last. "Not least because I had to retcon a whole village who'd seen it land. Jack told me to retcon the cows too, but I think he was joking."

"How angry wath he?"

"On a scale of one to ten? Well, considering he caught Tosh on AIM to a Uvil alien in Uxbridge, Gwen trying to sneak out with a bottle of alien pheremone to liven things up a bit with Rhys and Owen downloading alien porn _again_, I think it's fair to say he was having a bad day. So when I forgot to shut the roof…" Ianto finished his drink, another neat scotch taking its place almost before he could put the glass down. His brain seemed to have no intention of letting him stay sober this evening, filing or no filing. It probably knew best. He drained half the drink, before asking, "What happened with the fish?"

"Just carelethneth," his companion said sadly. Even his stitches seemed to be drooping. "I neglected to thecure the lid of the tank. They shredded the library and ate the cat before I could catch them."

"What kind of fish were they?"

"Thpecial fish." Igor sighed. "I had high hopeth for them at next year'th family reunion. It'th not easy, having a cousin like Igor. He alwayth gets the best jobs. He thent me a postcard last week from Hungary. Hungary! Do you know what they can do with sharks over there?"

Ianto considered. "Isn't Hungary landlocked?"

"Yeth."

"Don't sharks live in the sea?"

"Yeth." Igor sighed again. "Hith master has vithion."

"And yours?"

"Has a thquint." Igor's next drink was something blue and steaming, with a small paper umbrella perched at a jaunty angle. Ianto decided it was best not to ask as Igor continued, "You know, after the whole fish fiathco, he actually told me to stay out of the laboratory! Banning me from my own laboratory. Imagine that!"

"Jack told me he was going to revoke employee privileges," Ianto said gloomily, finishing his scotch and accepting the next one from the barman.

"Soundth therious."

"And frustrating," Ianto agreed. "He's also put me on double filing shifts." He looked at his watch. "I should probably get back to it."

"Me too," Igor said, smiling just a little, which was more than enough to disconcert anyone who wasn't used to it. "The Master bcomes rather tetchy if I'm not there on the thtroke of thundown."

"I'll get these," Ianto said, dropping a few notes onto the bar. "Are you off on Saturday?"

"No, Couthin Igor ith coming acroth with thome new frog thpecimins. We've high hopeth for the crothbreeds. They're showing definite signs of muthicality."

"Good luck."

"You too."

"Thanks."

"Thee you next week."

Ianto took a deep breath as he stepped out into the Cardiff night. The walk should clear his head, although he'd found that on occasions, Jack's approach to the archives made more sense when he'd had a couple of drinks. The Captain was the only man he knew who catalogued aliens by number of appendages. He also made a mental note to ask Igor about the fish next week. The Hub's shredder had finally broken down the week before and Jack was holding back on buying a new one. And it wasn't like the pool wasn't big enough for them. They might even keep Myfanwy away from Tosh's desk for once.

A slight spring in his step, Ianto smiled to himself and headed back to the Hub.


	2. Hex

**Hex**

It wasn't Tosh's normal kind of bar. It wasn't the kind of place that she was entirely comfortable in – too many dark corners and unidentifiable shapes in the shadows. But there were some days when, well, you just needed a place where no one would think to look for you.

The barman had her G&T waiting for as she walked in and she gave him a grateful smile before taking a hasty gulp. Perfect. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced round. The patrons were mostly the usual suspects, although she didn't recognise the man on the stool next to hers. He sat slumped on his seat, staring morosely at a large, orange cocktail on the bar in front of him. He looked as miserable as she felt.

The jukebox music changed and Tosh winced as a particularly thumping track burst through the quietness. The unknown young man seemed unaffected, except that he reached forwards and pulled his drink towards him. After another moment, the noise receded to a bearable level and Tosh turned to him with a slight smile.

"Not exactly your kind of music either?"

"Not really," he said. "And I'm not entirely convinced that this my kind of drink."

"What is that?" she asked, leaning over to get a better look.

"Um, I think…hang on." He took a long pull through the purple straw. "Vodka, Peach Schnapps, orange, grapefruit and cranberry juice, which I believe is known as Sex on the Beach. I say, are you alright?"

"Fine," Tosh coughed, setting down her drink and picking up a napkin. "That's…an interesting choice." She took a better look at her companion. He had the earnest, concentrated look that she remembered from her computer science lectures at college. You found it on the students who sat right at the front of the class, pencil poised, just waiting for the wonderful moment when they could correct a mistake in the lecturer's maths. She looked from the thin, bespectacled face to the cocktail and back again. He smiled weakly.

"It tastes quite nice," he assured her, "and it comes with fruit. Would you like some?"

"No!" Tosh said, a little too quickly. "Thank you. I'm fine." She banished the mental image with another mouthful of her own drink. "You look like you could use something to cheer you up."

"Yes." He turned back to the cocktail, prodding a piece of lime with the end of his straw. "Sometimes I think the people at work just aren't interested in what I'm doing."

"Tell me about it." Tosh took her next drink – a large glass of red wine – with a nod of thanks to the barman.

"Well," the man said, apparently taking this as an invitation, "first of all the Dean wanted to use the HEM Building for his lunch because it's hard to get through all nine courses in term-time. The students are far too distracting."

Tosh gave a bitter laugh. "He should try working while Owen's playing _Doom Four: Edge of Hades_ with the sound up."

"I thought they were only up to Three."

"We got the early release. Owen's giving them feedback on the look of the new aliens. Apparently."

"Oh." The man swirled the fruit with his straw and sighed again. "After that, the Archchancellor interrupted a very important Invisible Writings lecture because he's getting into trouble with the Librarian. Apparently, when his snooker balls travel through baize space, they also pass through L-space, which is playing havoc with the card catalogue. I told him that there's not much we can do about dimensional phasing, but he just told us to try harder. Then he dropped his chalk into the middle of Hex and killed four ants trying to get it out again."

Tosh smiled sympathetically. "At least you didn't have to deal with a trade delegation from the Jarnod sector. We spent all day talking, arguing, debating until I thought someone's head was going to explode and with the Jarnod, that's not just a figure of speech. They gave us some kind of complicated computer program that Jack swears will be useful for something, if we can just figure out what."

"What did they get in return?"

"An MP3 player."

"Isn't that a little..."

"Low-tech?" Tosh shrugged. "They hadn't seen one before."

"Did you put any music on it?"

Tosh nodded. "Jack let us choose an album each, so they ended up with The Prodigy, Catatonia, ABBA, Fifty Welsh Clog Dancing Songs and The Best of Burt Bacharach."

Her companion tilted his head. "Clog dancing?"

Tosh nodded. "Ianto swears it's traditional. And after all that, I couldn't even get the most basic of their files to work. There's something wrong with the algorithms, I think. The numbers just didn't make any sense." She sighed. "Jack said the results looked like they'd been produced by a Weevil with a calculator."

"Gosh." Finishing his drink, he pushed the glass away and accepted, with obvious relief, a large lemonade. "And to think I was just worried about all the ants getting out of Hex."

This time, the word resonated somewhere at the back of her mind and Tosh's mouth fell open. Turning very slowly she asked, "What did you just say?"

"I said that I was worried about the ants getting out."

"Of Hex."

"Yes. He's– It's our thinking machine."

"Hex. That's it!" Pulling her handbag open, Tosh fished around for a pen, pulling a napkin towards her at the same time. "Hex. Six. Base six maths!" She began scribbling; the numbers that had meant nothing to her all day suddenly began to make sense. "They're using a senary system, that's why the numbers didn't compute. I'm going to have to write a whole new program!" Folding up the napkin, she thrust it into her bag and pulled out her purse. "These are on me, to say thank you." She dropped the money onto the bar and began pulling on her coat.

"Thanks," the man said, opening and closing his mouth few times. "Um, I mean, you're welcome."

"It's been great." Tosh did up the last button and gave him a bright, distracted smile. "See you again."

"Great," he repeated weakly. "Um, goodbye then. I'll be here Friday…"

But Tosh was already halfway to the door, her mind working through all the possibilities. Shivering a little at the sudden drop in temperature, she stepped out into the Cardiff night and began to head back to the Hub. She couldn't wait to see the look on Jack's face. A Weevil with a calculator? She'd show him.


	3. Sand

**Sand**

The sand under her was firm, a deep black under the bleak whiteness of the sky. She got to her feet slowly, lifting a handful of the sand and letting it run through her fingers. It was dry and warm. She brushed the last of it from her palm, looking around her new surroundings.

The light was bright and harsh although she couldn't see the sun. The sky was just a solid, blinding white, illuminating the blank canvas of the landscape. There was nothing but black sand as far as the eye could see.

Slowly, she turned, following the horizon, eyes straining in the emptiness. Halfway round, she stopped, smiling at the objects that had been behind her all the time. Two chairs were arranged either side of a low table, on which sat a chess set. As she moved closer, she was vaguely disappointed to see that the pieces were plain, not ornately carved in strange and grotesque figures as she'd expected.

She took the seat on the white side of the board, reaching out and running a finger down one of the pieces. It was as cold as ice. She sat for a while, staring at the horizon and waiting.

"SUZANNE COSTELLO?"

She raised her eyebrows at the cowled figure. "Well, you're more or less what I expected."

"INDEED."

"I didn't see you last time, though, did I?"

"NO."

"And this time," she gestured to the board, "we have a game to play."

The cowl dipped as Death bent his head to look at the board.

"AH, YES. CHESS IS TRADITIONAL." Somewhere in the deep blackness of his eye sockets, a blue light flared. "UNFORTUNATELY, I DO NOT PLAY CHESS."

Suzie smiled. "Does that mean I'm going to win?"

Death tilted his head.

"AH. YOU MISUNDERSTAND. I DID NOT MEAN THAT I CANNOT PLAY CHESS."

He reached into the recesses of his robe and pulled out an hourglass which he set in the middle of the board. Looking at it, Suzie saw that it was in fact two hourglasses, held side by side in the same frame. The sand in both of them had run out.

"I MEANT THAT I WILL NOT PLAY CHESS," Death said, reaching down and retrieving his scythe from the sand.

"I thought there would be a game," Suzie protested. "A final game. A last chance to win."

"THERE WAS," Death told her, "BUT NOW THERE ARE NO MORE GAMES."

A flicker from the board caught Suzie's eye and she looked down. One of the black pieces was moving, its tiny robe fluttering as it stood upright. Before she could react, it leapt onto the top of the hourglasses and down again, grabbed the white queen and retreated as quickly as it had come.

"Hey!" Suzie shouted, as the tiny, skeletal figure took up its perch on Death's shoulder. 

"SQUEAK."

"That's mine!"

Ignoring her, Death rose, black cloak unfurling around him. He turned to go, then paused, looking back at the board. Carefully, he reached out and lifted the black knight between two boned fingers, moving it three squares forwards and one to the side. The skeletal rat nodded.

"SQUEAK."

"THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT. VERY CURIOUS." He looked up at Suzie again. "YOU DO NOT HAVE TO STAY HERE."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"THAT DECISION IS NOT MINE," he said, "BUT, THIS TIME, IT WILL BE FINAL."

Suzie watched as he stalked away, his robe fluttering in the non-existent breeze. Then she got to her feet, turning round slowly again as she'd done at first, as though assessing the empty scenery. By the time she turned full circle, the table, chairs and chess board were gone. Nodding to herself, Suzie lifted her head, fixed her eyes on the horizon and began to walk.


	4. Ook

**Ook**

Gwen wasn't entirely sure why Owen had brought her here tonight. With a match on and Dav's new widescreen TV installed, there was no chance of running into Rhys anywhere in town. But here they were, in this small, smoky pub, having a quiet drink and trying not to stare at the other customers. At least, she was trying not to. Owen didn't seem to be aware of anything but the glass in front of him. He got like this sometimes, she knew. Best just to ride it out and wait for the storm to break.

She sipped her drink, a red wine that she never would have chosen for herself but was quite enjoying. After a while, she nudged Owen.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, winking at him, trying to get him to at least react, if not smile. He raised an eyebrow.

"Fairly," he said flatly, taking another gulp of his scotch. "It's quiet, got cheap drinks and no-one thinks you're mad if you talk about Weevils once you've had a skinful. And you don't have to worry about retconning them, either."

"Oh. Right." So flirtatious was off the cards tonight then. This time, she took a whole mouthful of wine, not worrying so much about the taste. Once she finished this glass, she could move onto to something with a higher alcohol content. If Owen was going to be in a mood all evening, she was going to need it.

After another moment, Owen finished his drink in a single swig and climbed off the barstool. "Going to take a leak," he mumbled, heading into one of the darker corners of the bar.

"Right. Fine. Okay." Gwen turned back to her drink, trying not to feel like an idiot. "I'll just sit here, then, shall I?" she muttered. "Just sit here and try to look inconspicuous. All on my own. I'll just, you know, sit here." Glancing around her, she made a point of not keeping her eyes on one place for too long. The last thing she needed was to be accused of looking at someone funny – in this place, getting barred would be the least of her worries.

But despite herself, her eyes lingered on the occupant of the bar stool next to Owen's. She'd noticed long, furred fingers wrapped round the stem of an absurdly large cocktail glass earlier on. The fingers turned out to be attached to large, leathery hands and even longer and even furrier arms. In turn, the arms were attached, with no visible shoulders, to a body like an oversized and slightly deflated beachball, covered in wispy orange hair. As though sensing her stare, the other drinker turned his head towards her, looking at her with a perpetually disappointed expression.

"Ook?"

Gwen looked away quickly, draining her drink. Maybe this was the point at which she needed to think about running. Almost as she put the glass down, it was replaced with another. She lifted it to get a better look, then took an experimental sip.

"Diet coke?" But when she looked up, the bartender was gone, serving a very small glass of a clear drink to someone further down the bar.

"Ook."

Her neighbour was probably giving her a sympathetic look, although it was hard to tell with an orang-utan.

"It hasn't even got a shot in it," Gwen grumbled, drinking it anyway.

"Ook." This time the sound was accompanied by a complicated gesture. With arms that long, the gesture could be _very_ complicated indeed.

"He said he thinks you should probably stop at one tonight."

The voice came from behind her and Gwen turned to see a tall, blonde woman standing at the bar with a tray of empty glasses.

"How can you tell?" Gwen asked. "What he said, I mean."

"Practice." The blonde smiled at the bartender as he took the tray. "I think I agree with him."

"How the hell would you know?" Getting annoyed, Gwen looked back at the orang-utan, who was now giving her a remarkably knowing look. It was the mirror of the one on the blonde woman's face, only without the raised eyebrows. Gwen hid her confusion by reaching out for her drink again.

"Because you're here with a man you can barely stand instead of at home with the man you love," the blonde answered calmly.

Coke came out of Gwen's nose. As she spluttered, a furred hand gently pressed a napkin to her face, which she took gratefully. Once the coughing had subsided, she looked up at the blonde woman.

"What the hell-" She broke off, shaking her head. "How do you-"

"I can tell things like that," the blonde said. "You could say that I've got a nose for it."

"And what does your nose think I should do about it?" Gwen reached out for her coke, only to find that the glass was gone. It hadn't been replaced.

"It's up to you of course, but even strays can go home." The blonde woman turned to Gwen properly for the first time, her expression making Gwen's cheeks burn. Looking away, Gwen found herself looking into huge black eyes. She could almost see her reflection in them.

"Ook."

When the woman was gone, Angua turned to the librarian.

"I think she'll be alright," she said, smiling, just a little.

"Ook." The librarian took a long sip of his drink, prodding at the floating fruit with his straw. "Ook ook."

"You think? Well, that happens sometimes." Looking round, Angua saw the woman's companion coming back, a frown on his face.

"Where'd she go?" he asked, gesturing at the conspicuously empty bar stool.

"Home, I hope," Angua said evenly, starting to pick up the now full tray of drinks. 

"What?" Putting a hand on the back of his head, the man looked around in confusion. "But, we were having a drink!"

"You were," Angua said, emphasising the second word, "and now she's gone. Let her go."

The man glared up at her. "What do you know about it?"

"More than you might think. Excuse me." Angua started to move away, balancing the tray carefully. The man stepped into her path.

"Wait a second. Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Just helping out," Angua said evenly.

"Helping who?" The man stepped closer, so that only the tray was keeping them apart. "I don't know where you get off thinking-"

"Ook." A long-fingered hand wrapped round the man's shoulder. He spun round, furious.

"Stay out of this, monkey boy."

"Oh dear." Very, very carefully, Angua backed away, retreating to the corner table with the drinks.

"Took you long enough," Colon grumbled, taking his and passing the tray round.

"Ran into a bit of trouble at the bar," Angua said, waving away Carrot's worried look. "Nothing serious." Everyone stopped drinking as a loud crash came from the direction of the bar. "See?" Angua said with a smile. "All taken care of."


	5. Loose Ends

**Loose Ends**

"And so I said to him, we'll just have to go over the top!"

Jack loved having an audience, especially such an appreciative one. It more than made up for the stony glare he was receiving from the other end of the table. If the old lady in front of him was putty in his hands, her companion was as hard as a Trellian diamond.

Grinning over his glass, Jack watched his newest fan munch her way through the last of the olives. It was quite the education, particularly when she got to the stone. Her companion made a small, huffing noise and Jack turned to her with his brightest smile. Its wattage was usually sufficient to dazzle the most cynical soul. This time, it had all the effect of shining a torch into a black hole.

"Don't try anything on with me, young man," she warned, looking down her nose at him. "Gytha's the easy one."

"Too true," the olive-eater put in, grinning happily.

"Nothing further from my mind," Jack assured her, not turning down the wattage, even a little. "In fact, I'm going to have to love you and leave you, just for a while."

"Promises, promises." The last of the olives finished, the enthusiastic muncher grinned up at him, baring her tooth. "They're starting the karaoke soon, and I know this great song about…"

"I'll hurry back for it," Jack said, slipping out of the booth quickly and collecting two glasses of water from the barman before making his way into one of the darkest corners of the room. In this bar, that meant that you needed either echolocation or a good memory not to bump into the furniture.

Jack's head thumped against a low beam.

"Ouch."

"Careful." The woman at the corner table was wearing a dark cloak and, when she pushed it back, her hair shone white in the gloom, all but a single black streak. From somewhere on the other side of the bar, the first notes of an introduction could be heard as the karaoke got started.

"Why do people always say that after you've hurt yourself?" Jack asked, putting the glasses down on the table.

"To feel smug," Susan said, taking the water and sipping it experimentally.

"It's just water," Jack assured her, wrapping his fingers round his own glass. "Although I wasn't expecting you."

"He wouldn't come." Susan sighed. "He finds your company…"

"Disconcerting?"

"INSULTING."

Jack shivered. "Do you have to do that?"

"It was a direct quote. Sorry." Her expression suggesting a distinct lack of apology, Susan took another sip of water. "He doesn't appreciate all the trouble you put him to, you know. And I don't appreciate playing messenger."

"You have somewhere better to be?"

"Actually, yes. The class are just mastering gerunds. It's a very important skill."

Jack frowned. "Isn't that a kind of small penguin?"

"Yes, Jack," Susan said wearily. "Alongside grammar and geometry, I also teach ornithology and animal husbandry. It makes a terrible mess in the classroom but they get extra stars for helping clean up. And now that I've used up this year's sarcasm allowance, can we get down to business?"

Holding up his hands in surrender, Jack said, "You're the ones who wanted to see me, remember?"

"Only after the mess you made."

"You want an apology?" Jack shook his head. "I had no idea. You know that."

"These things have consequences, Jack. As if having you pop in and out every five minutes like you've got a season ticket wasn't enough, do you have to encourage your staff to do the same?"

"Okay, number one, it's not my fault that someone installed a revolving door into…" he waved a hand vaguely, "…wherever. You find a way to shut it and I'll personally throw away the key. Number two, I think you'll find I did everything possible to stop her coming back. It's not like I put an "in case of death" instruction in the training manual."

They glared silently at each other for a long moment. The karaoke played on regardless and the high, cackling notes carried throughout the small room.

_…the sheep is a classic, as well you may find, the llama's all right…_

Finally, Susan said,

"It can't keep happening, Jack."

"Me or her?"

"Both."

He blinked. "I don't…"

"Eventually, that revolving door of yours is going to stick"

"I know." He shrugged. "You're the ones with the timers. When it sticks, it sticks."

Susan looked away at last, reaching into her cloak and pulling out a small, white object which she put on the table between their glasses.

"He sent you this, and said not to let it happen again."

Carefully, Jack moved his glass to see the object better, then looked up at Susan. "Tell him thanks. I'll do my best."

Susan got to her feet as though to leave, then she hesitated, turning back to the table. The karaoke singer was still belting out verses with great enthusiasm.

_…the dog's man's best friend if you don't mind the fleas…_

When Jack looked up, Susan reached inside her cloak again, taking out a larger object and holding it out so that he could see. It was an hourglass, the frame polished to a deep black and the bottom bulb full of black sand. The sand was moving, a continual trickle of black onto black. It was more or less what he had expected. Then Susan moved closer, and Jack saw that there was nothing in the top bulb; it was completely empty. The sand simply appeared at the join between the two and ran down into the bottom, never filling it and never running out.

He gave her a curious look.

"What does it mean?"

"If you find out, please let us know. Take care." She put the hourglass away again then paused as Jack took her hand and lightly kissed her fingers.

"Thank you."

"I won't tell him about that part," she said, her face reddening and showing three white marks across her cheek. "He gets protective."

"I don't blame him."

"Goodbye, Jack."

Jack sat for a while longer, staring at the small white object on the table. The white queen seemed to glow in the darkness, and when he picked it up, it was cold despite the warmth of the pub. He smiled to himself, put the chess piece in his jacket pocket and headed back towards the bar.

"Jack!" The singer waved to him with the microphone. "Come on, join in with the chorus." She began to sing again. _"The hedgehog can never…"_

Jack waved back, shaking his head and sitting at one of the bar stools.

"Is she always like this?" he asked his neighbour.

"Ook."

"That's what I thought. Oh, and I'm sorry about the other night."

"Ook. Ook ook."

"Well, it's good of you to say so. If it's any comfort, he had to scale his extra-curricular activities right back for a few days."

"Eek ook."

"You're right about that." Taking the glass of water the barman had brought him, Jack raised it to the singer, who was just reaching the good part.

_Roll them all over and turn them around,  
The hedgehog can never…_


End file.
